A whole tub of butter... gone! Gone!!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
In Two Weeks...
A whole tub of butter... gone! Gone!!
I toasted bread and swirled it around the sides. Couldn't get enough of it.!
Brand: Asturiana. Note also, the dubious, scrapped out yogurt tub in the background. And my lovely strings lying by. Mantequilla in Spainish means butter. Yes, I have a soft spot for good dairy. Thank God also, for good genes. Mmmmmmm.
A whole tub of butter... gone! Gone!!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
When Life Whacks, Do You Play it Dead Like A Smacked Mozzie?
I played the first set of my new tennis life here in Spain, today, and lost 4-6. Not so bad considering I was a bag of nerves at the start. But, no. It was particularly, especially frustrating when I successfully battled my jits and raced up from a 0-1 trail to lead 4-1, serving 40-0. The tides turned suddenly and I ended up losing the match entirely. 4-6. Whoo hoo!
I was so frustrated--partly because I let the set slip, and partly because I didn't know what went wrong. How did I let it slip?? I went for fitness after that, and worked so hard on my jump rope after, I could hardly lift my hands up. What went wrong what went wrong?
My housemate Kiko told me I just need more experience. Just keep playing, Sarah. Be patient!
Patience. Yes, patience.
Later that evening I had a firm disagreement (to put it mildly) with an ill-mannered, asinine colleague of mine called Victor. (For those of you who've been keeping in touch with my blog, he's the author of the "Shit-belts").
Victor has this amazing "insistence" of talking to me in Spanish in front of the kids, when I have told him many times before that I don't understand the language yet. His insolence bears over to the point of cruelty, particularly when you realise he's doing it out of sheer maliciousness. Case in point:
Victor: "Sarah!"
I look up as he walks to me and stops, full frontal. Imagine a thick man my height, with a beard and small metal-rimmed rectangular spectacles. His arms are at his side and he is leaning slightly forward.
Victor: "Habrá una reunión para todos los niños a las nueve."
I give him a blank look. A few seconds pass. I frown slightly, tilting my head forward just to hear him better.
Me: "I'm sorry?"
Victor: "Habrá una reunión para todos los niños a las nueve."
I shake my head and smile.
Me: "I'm sorry Victor, I don't understand much Spanish. What did you say?"
I know he speaks English, I have heard him before. All this while, there are about six kids around us, lining up for dinner. They are all looking at him, at me. Victor continues to lean slightly forward, his arms poised slightly in a very subtle confrontational manner.
Victor: "Habrá una reunión para todos los niños a las nueve."
Me: "I'm sorry, I don't understand."
Victor: "Yah, but you have to learn how to speak Spanish, no??"
*****
I found out Victor later went up to another collegue after the incident and sniggered as he recounted the story. "Check it out, this is what I did to her."
He repeated it again today--again in front of kids I was having dinner with, and then went on to the next table and told the same colleague "I'm going to do it, and keep doing it to her. The more she tells me she doesn't speak Spanish, the more I'm going to do it, more often and for longer periods of time."
Obviously when I found out I was amazed, disgusted and fucking annoyed.
Incredible! Kiko tells me I should totally ignore him the next time--it would piss the living daylights out of his pea-witted brain. You guys suggestions on what I should do?
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Trainer Talk
On Saturday, I had an awesome meeting with my future, potential trainer: Federico Baron. We worked together for two weeks in November '09 when my then trainer, Javier Capitaine had gone back to Argentina to see his family. This time round, we met up to discuss the possibility of training together, with a training plan guided by Capi. Because of my current work-schedule arrangement with the Academy, I am not attached to any fitness trainers here at S-C, and am left to do fitness by myself. Federico is a full time trainer, and was also a national runner for Argentina (100m, 200m and 400m). Like Capi, he actually has experience as a high-performance athlete, and that's always something both rare and refreshing to have.
Obviously, I like Federico--he comes from the same school as Capi, and while obviously not as experienced as the man, he is eager to work with the latter (they have a great relationship), learn from him, and teach me. I can tell that he's talented and smart. I can also tell that he likes me and believes in my ability as an athlete--something I indefinitely need.
He'll let me know within the week my options. In the mean time, there's going to be a European athletic championships meet this week in Barcelona and I might be going with him for that. Damn excited. My chance to watch an international athletic meet!
On Saturday, I had an awesome meeting with my future, potential trainer: Federico Baron. We worked together for two weeks in November '09 when my then trainer, Javier Capitaine had gone back to Argentina to see his family. This time round, we met up to discuss the possibility of training together, with a training plan guided by Capi. Because of my current work-schedule arrangement with the Academy, I am not attached to any fitness trainers here at S-C, and am left to do fitness by myself. Federico is a full time trainer, and was also a national runner for Argentina (100m, 200m and 400m). Like Capi, he actually has experience as a high-performance athlete, and that's always something both rare and refreshing to have.
Obviously, I like Federico--he comes from the same school as Capi, and while obviously not as experienced as the man, he is eager to work with the latter (they have a great relationship), learn from him, and teach me. I can tell that he's talented and smart. I can also tell that he likes me and believes in my ability as an athlete--something I indefinitely need.
Going back to training plans, I told him my plight with sponsors, my situation with very little money, and my need to find a trainer. "It's difficult doing stuff alone. I can do it, but I need guidance." I gave him my timetable, and he's going to work out a couple of options. Working together everyday, working together a few days in a week, working once a week and continuing with a plan for the rest of the week, etc. Added to cost, is the fact that we will have to train outside the Academy too--because it will be a private endeavor. So gym rates factor in too.
I hope I can afford him. I really hope I do. But I think I will have to go back to my dad to ask for money. Something I don't feel good about, but something I have no choice in either. Also, I have been thinking of planning for eventually moving out of the Academy in a couple of months, maybe at the end of the year when my Spanish is better. I doubt I will have energy once I start competing properly to continue with a 12hour night shift job. I sleep at 2, or 3am in the morning every night now with this job. Of course I could sleep earlier, but at the expense of not doing my job well. If I move out to the neighbourhood that Capi works in (Castelldefels, and also the gym that Federico and I would probably be working in), then it'd be much easier commuting. Needless to say, it would also be with someone I genuinely have faith in working with.
He'll let me know within the week my options. In the mean time, there's going to be a European athletic championships meet this week in Barcelona and I might be going with him for that. Damn excited. My chance to watch an international athletic meet!
Chinos Emporium: 东方 商 场
As a bona fide Singaporean, one of the few things that calm me down is walking into a place full of food. It's of little wonder that I got terribly excited when I walked into a Chinese Emporium today! I bought a whole bunch of Chinese condiments and tried to ignore my dad's voice in my head, "Ajinomoto and sauces are bad food!!" Here's sharing my receipt:
€0,65/pack Nissan instant noodles. x4 : P
€0,59 Two fingers of fresh ginger, and a bit of a palm too. Hehe€0,95 Pack of 3 cloves of garlic :Q
As a bona fide Singaporean, one of the few things that calm me down is walking into a place full of food. It's of little wonder that I got terribly excited when I walked into a Chinese Emporium today! I bought a whole bunch of Chinese condiments and tried to ignore my dad's voice in my head, "Ajinomoto and sauces are bad food!!" Here's sharing my receipt:
€0,65/pack Nissan instant noodles. x4 : P
€0,59 Two fingers of fresh ginger, and a bit of a palm too. Hehe€0,95 Pack of 3 cloves of garlic :Q
€1,45 Pack of red beans, 500g
€2,10 Pack of dried chrysanthemum leaves, 113g
€1,50 Dark Vinegar
€1,65 Light soya sauce :P
€0,80 200g pack of coconut milk
€1,00 400g can of coconut milk (different brand. just try!)
€0,75 candied peanut cookies.
Case in point, I got very excited when I saw the peanut cookies, even though the brand name warned me otherwise...
Disappointingly, it ended up pretty c-o-c-k alright. The caramel was cheap tasting, the wafers thin and the sesame seeds sparsely spaced out. Yeuck! It was so bad, I now miss proper peanut cookies.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
For the Love of Clay
Contrary to what many believe, Sanchez-Casal is not just all about clay. The coaches switch us between hard courts and clay every week or so to keep us in touch with different court speeds. For this week--we're back on Spanish clay and I've slowly grown to love the latter's surface. Simply for the sand slides and...the more forgiving bounces... hahaha. The smell of freshly sprayed clay courts is also wonderful and strangely therapeutic.
To move well on clay, though, you need a really good pair of shoes. Because you're running on sand, your soles can't be worn, otherwise you'll be sliding more than shuffling. Slipping more than skipping! On my second day back on clay, I changed into brand new shoes, and moving became SO much easier. This is what became of it after just one practice...
Before:
After:
All for the love of tennis. Amen ♥
Contrary to what many believe, Sanchez-Casal is not just all about clay. The coaches switch us between hard courts and clay every week or so to keep us in touch with different court speeds. For this week--we're back on Spanish clay and I've slowly grown to love the latter's surface. Simply for the sand slides and...the more forgiving bounces... hahaha. The smell of freshly sprayed clay courts is also wonderful and strangely therapeutic.
To move well on clay, though, you need a really good pair of shoes. Because you're running on sand, your soles can't be worn, otherwise you'll be sliding more than shuffling. Slipping more than skipping! On my second day back on clay, I changed into brand new shoes, and moving became SO much easier. This is what became of it after just one practice...
Before:
Pristine, Sparkling, Clean.
After:
Grotty, dusty, dirty. Peppered with clay.
All for the love of tennis. Amen ♥
Friday, July 23, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
ÕEvery-Days are Sun-days in Spain Õ
I am really enjoying practices, but the sun has been absolutely unrelenting. In a bid to save my skin (and eyes), I have resorted to wearing longs, copious amounts of sunblock, a visor and shades on court. It's all extremely effective, the only drawback being I probably look like 1) I'm in purdah, or 2) a freak on court. The only consolation I bring to my sheepish consciousness is that I'd much much rather look like a weirdo, than burn my collagen and regret it ten years later (face wrinkles included... Eeks!)
The longs that have saved me thus far are my trusty 2XU tights:
(read: absolute God-send)
and a long-sleeved top. With my very thorough pre-practice routine (read: carefully smothering birthday suit in sunblock, and then putting on my longs), I thought I'd be less prone to the sun's evil tanning tentacles. Unfortunately, it didn't save me the incredible "surprise" I got when I shrugged off my tights after practice today:
The damn X of 2XU had tanned itself on my thigh....$*(&#$^@%** .... Damn you sun... damn you! -_____-"
I am really enjoying practices, but the sun has been absolutely unrelenting. In a bid to save my skin (and eyes), I have resorted to wearing longs, copious amounts of sunblock, a visor and shades on court. It's all extremely effective, the only drawback being I probably look like 1) I'm in purdah, or 2) a freak on court. The only consolation I bring to my sheepish consciousness is that I'd much much rather look like a weirdo, than burn my collagen and regret it ten years later (face wrinkles included... Eeks!)
The longs that have saved me thus far are my trusty 2XU tights:
and a long-sleeved top. With my very thorough pre-practice routine (read: carefully smothering birthday suit in sunblock, and then putting on my longs), I thought I'd be less prone to the sun's evil tanning tentacles. Unfortunately, it didn't save me the incredible "surprise" I got when I shrugged off my tights after practice today:
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